Gotham stretched out before him, a field of darkness punctuated by the twinkle of apartment and streetlights. His city, the city of his parents. Both had grown up here, impressing upon him their love of their hometown, their hopes and dreams for its future. He often wondered if he was doing enough, if he was making enough of a difference, if Mom and Dad would be proud of him. He hoped so. He prayed so.
It was quiet at the moment, nothing but the distant sound of traffic reaching his ears. Even the police bands were practically flat, with officers joking and chatting with each other in direct violation of standard protocol. These were the moments Batman savored, the moments he wished (as futile as it was) would last forever. Being able to catch even a glimpse of what Gotham could be, Gotham at its best, reminded him of why he went on with his crusade.
His ears caught a whisper of movement behind him. His mind immediately analyzed it: expert-level stealth, betrayed only by the fact that he knew its methods himself. A single subject, lightweight, probably female, standing at least twenty feet behind him without closing. No weapons drawn, at least not yet. All that added up to one person that he knew.
"Tina," he rumbled without turning.
"Beloved," the smooth feminine voice behind him replied, just as casually.
Only then did Batman turn. A young woman stood there, dressed in a black jumpsuit, her long hair flickering in the cold breeze. She didn't look at all dangerous, but that was just one facet of what made her so very deadly. There was a reason why she was field leader of the League of Assassins, the most dangerous organization of cold-blooded killers in the world. Her presence in Gotham could mean nothing good.
"Where's your father?" Batman asked, though his senses hadn't perceived the presence of anyone but her in the immediate vicinity. Not that that mattered - the League of Assassins prided themselves on killing even when their operatives weren't within miles of their target. "Did Ra's send you to give me another warning we both know I'll ignore? Or does he still think I'll return to his fold?"
Tina shook her head, taking a step forward. "The Demon's Head is my liege and my parent. But he does not control me completely. I am here alone, and on my own behalf."
Ra's al Ghul was ultimate head of the League of Assassins, and one of Batman's most dangerous foes. A megalomaniac who believed that the world was irredeemably corrupt, he'd already tried at least twice to wipe out massive swaths of the population so he could rebuild "a better world" on its ashes, plots that Batman had to spend much time, blood, sweat, and tears thwarting. For the dominant figure of an international band of cutthroats, Ra's seemed to be an unlikely candidate. He was a young-looking man of apparent Asian origin, though he claimed to be hundreds of years old, a boast Batman met with skepticism. When they first met, Batman had thought Ra's and Tina lovers; the man's appearance certainly made him look more like Tina's peer than her parent. The truth, in fact, was even more uncomfortable: Ra's al Ghul wanted, needed, an heir. He thought Batman the only man in the world worthy to either be that heir, or to produce one through his daughter.
It didn't matter what Batman himself wanted; both Ra's and Tina knew who he really was, and thus his sexuality. The only thing that mattered to Ra's was his dream, his goals. Everything else was irrelevant. That was just one of the many reasons why Batman had set himself in opposition to the Demon's Head, despite any small drop of sympathy he might have felt towards his point of view.
"Tina..." he began, not unkindly. Despite her devotion to her father and his causes, he had an odd sort of sympathy for her. He knew what it was like to struggle to make a world your parents wanted, to buckle sometimes under the impossible weight of self-inflicted expectations. He might've even considered her a friend, had she not been who she was, had he not been who he was.
She shook her head to forestall the inevitable words. "I'm sorry, beloved, but I cannot accept your pity, or your refusals. I won't." Tina was closer now; she looked up at him, eyes shimmering in the moonlight. "Do you not realize how difficult this is for someone like me? I'm used to being strong, in control. But you... Even though Father wishes to force you upon me... I have come to want you of my own accord. I know it is foolish, but who says the heart is sane?" She was practically chest-to-chest with him now. Her hands reached up towards his face, towards his cowl. "David..." she whispered.
He took hold of her wrists; she didn't resist. His grip was tight, much tighter than he would've taken with most others of her stature, but he knew that to Tina, his strength was of little concern. She was still a match for him; in a fair, really serious fight, Batman put his chances against her at 55-45, maybe 60-40 at best. But of course, an organization like the League of Assassins would never teach its members to fight fair. "Don't," he said firmly.
"You don't have to love me," she said, her brow furrowed with emotion; he could tell at least one was some measure of self-disgust and humiliation at baring her feelings like this, laying herself so low for a man, any man. "I know that you will never feel towards me what I do for you. But I can make you happy. I can take you away from this hell on Earth, away from the guilt and pain that gnaws at your soul."
I don't want to be taken away from any of that. That's what Batman wanted to say. But he realized, even as the thought formed in his mind, just how ridiculous and insane it sounded. "I can't be what you want," is what he actually did say. "I can't be what your father wants." He let go of her wrists; they dropped limply to her sides.
"What if I were to forswear the League of Assassins?" she asked quietly. "Leave them and my father, reject his ways?"
"You wouldn't," Batman replied simply.
She looked up at him with a small smile. "No, I wouldn't. You know me too well, beloved." She stared into his eyes for a long moment. He hid his discomfort as well as he usually did, but it never seemed to be enough with her and Ra's. "And I know you. There is... someone else, isn't there?" Batman remained silent and impassive; Tina's smile widened in amusement. "Oh, come now, you don't have to worry about me going out and killing him or anything of the sort. But I am concerned about your happiness. You may believe that or not, but I do."
"If you truly cared about me," he said in a low, thunderous tone, "you wouldn't pressure me. And you'd leave Gotham and the world alone."
Tina shook her head sadly. "There are larger issues, larger forces, in play than my feelings for you, David. I believe in the world Ra's al Ghul will make. I only wish you did."
"No world is worth what he's willing to do to achieve it."
"And that," Tina sighed, "is where we part, and will probably never meet."
"There's no 'probably' about it."
Tina ran a hand up and down his shoulder. "Nevertheless, I meant it when I said your love has nothing to fear from me. I also meant it when I said that you do not need to return my feelings. The ones I hold for you are quite enough on their own."
"Are you done yet?" He knew he was being abrupt, even more so than normal, but he had a wild need to be out of her grip, out of her sight.
"Yes. I was on my way to an... assignment, and I had to see you." She stepped backwards, her feet almost gliding over the graveled rooftop in near-perfect silence. "Until we meet again, beloved." She turned and ran, jumping headlong off the edge of the ten story building. Batman had no doubt that the act was not at all self-destructive.
He stared at the empty space for a long moment, calming his heart and mind. Then, finally, he said out loud, to apparently empty space, "She's gone." The moment those words dissipated on the wind, a tall figure descended from the skies. He wore a predominantly blue costume that blended with the red of his cape and boots. His hair was slicked back tightly against his skull, a disguise measure that reminded Batman uncomfortably of Blaine Anderson. The moonlight illuminated the large red "S" on his chest in a hazy glow. His face was open and friendly, smiling as his feet touched solid ground; the smile barely shook as Batman glared. "You're late."
Superman rubbed the back of his neck with a contrite look. "Sorry about that. Got held up in Alaska. Icebreaker got in some trouble." He looked over in the general direction in which Tina had disappeared; Batman had no doubt he was using his X-ray vision to see if she was still nearby, and that he would see nothing regardless. "Want me to follow her?"
Batman shook his head. "If you could, the League of Assassins would've folded long ago."
"How the hell do they do it, anyway? I mean, I can look through walls and hear heartbeats from a mile away! They shouldn't be able to..."
"They shouldn't, but they do. Ra's is very good at what he does. So is everyone who trains under him."
"But not better than you, huh?" Superman's grin grew wider, but he got no reply. Instead, he had to scramble to catch the memory card that Batman tossed nearly in his face.
"Here's the data you were asking for."
Superman turned the card over delicately in his fingers. "And I can use all of this?"
"It's all vetted or a matter of public record. All I did was connect a few dots that you couldn't."
Superman beamed. "Great! Thanks, Dave!"
Batman shook his head; he'd long ago given up on trying to teach him not to use that diminutive, or even first names, for that matter. But these days... Superman was one of the best - the only - friends he had, though he'd never admit it to anyone, least of all the man before him. "You're welcome, Finn."
The Kryptonian tucked the memory card under his belt. "I'd better get going. I've got a story to write." He paused a moment. "Hey, what she said about you having someone in your life..."
"Goodbye, Finn."
Superman shrugged, as if expecting the response. "No problem. I just think... Life isn't worth it without love, y'know? I think you should try to make it work. Even if it doesn't... at least you tried."
With that, he launched himself into the sky, leaving Batman's cape swirling in the sudden gust. Silently, he turned and returned his gaze to the city below, to the life surging in the streets below, going about their business in ignorant bliss.
The cabbie still looked dazed as he pulled up to the gates. He blinked as he looked up at the storied, ivy covered walls surrounding the Karofsky mansion. He turned and looked back at his fare. "You sure this is...?"
Kurt grumbled in impatience. "Yes, I'm sure." He almost threw a wad of bills at the cabbie. "Keep the change." Anything to get out of that taxi and its driver's frankly rude stares and questions.
As the cab peeled away, Kurt reached out, tentatively trying the gate. It swung open with only the slightest creak. He stepped onto the grounds, shutting the wrought iron gate behind him. All around him were moss-covered trees, neatly trimmed hedges in various geometric shapes, smooth-cut grass. A large stone fountain burbled merrily as he stepped around it towards the sprawling stone mansion. The solid oak doors seemed to tower over him; Kurt could almost feel history pulse through his hand as it ran over the cold wood. Shaking his head, he reached to his side and firmly pressed a button by the door. He barely heard the muffled sound of a chime within. As he waited, he looked around, his eyes taking in all the telltale signs of a sophisticated security system. There's the video feed... Well-shielded, too. Hmm, looks like the doors are wired too... Very nice. But, of course, what else could he expect from the home of David Karofsky?
Soon enough, the double doors opened. A butler with red curly hair stood stiffly and formally on the other side, the same man who'd picked David up outside the restaurant. "Hi," Kurt said cheerfully. "I'm Kurt Hummel. David's expecting me?"
Kurt wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but he could've sworn he saw a flash of a smile pass over the butler's face. He blinked; all that he could see now was the same impassive look that could give Batman a run for his money. "Master David is in the lounge. Please come in."
As he followed the butler, Kurt looked about in awe. The wood paneling, the paintings, the sculpture, the suits of armor... It was less a home and more of a museum, filled with untouchable pieces. Kurt's instincts stirred in him, but he tamped them down. It wouldn't make sense to rob David; he was way too high profile. Besides, he was better used as...
Two simultaneous thoughts hit Kurt at the same time; the combined force almost sent him staggering. First: I don't want to use David. Second: When did I start thinking of him as "David"? Oh, God. This was dangerous. Way too fucking dangerous, especially since he had no idea where it was all coming from. The smart thing to do was to leave. Right now. Make some excuse and just go. Come back when he had time to clear his head, consider whether he should do this at all...
"Kurt! Glad you could make it!"
The so-named Kurt blinked. He hadn't even realized he'd stepped into the lounge until David called out, waving at him cheerfully from a seat by a crackling fireplace. Rubbing his eyes and sighing inwardly, Kurt dragged himself into the room, sitting in the overstuffed chair on the opposite side of the fire from David's. "I'm glad you invited me," he finally managed to say with a tight smile.
"I don't usually do this, especially not on the second date."
"I didn't know you had second dates."
David laughed. "Touche. But seriously... I have a good time with you."
Kurt couldn't help but smile, genuinely, at that. "I have a good time with you too."
It was then that the butler stepped back into the room. "Dinner is served."
As at Simone's, the table was intimate and candlelit, only this table was an 18th century English antique that Kurt almost felt guilty for actually eating off of. It was shoved into the middle of an otherwise empty, cavernous dining room, feeling almost like an isolated island in the middle of a sea of shadow. The sun had just set, stars starting to twinkle on the other side of the huge bay window that faced the north.
Kurt had thought that Simone's was the ultimate of discreet and efficient service, but this butler of David's made them look like Grover from Sesame Street. Dishes seemed to vanish as soon as they were done, replaced by new, mouthwatering courses by what must have been dark sorcery. Soup, salad, escargot (a new taste for Kurt, and not nearly as bad as he'd feared), all came and went with precision and speed. Through it all, Kurt and David talked, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine they drank. Kurt almost hated to pause to eat, but he had to, especially when the main course, chicken Kiev, came.
"Oh, God! My mouth is exploding!"
David chuckled. "I'm glad you liked it. It was my first time making it, and..."
Kurt's eyes widened. "You? You made this wonderful feast?"
"Well, William did most of it; I just did the chicken. I, uh... wanted to do something myself. Something special."
Kurt blushed. "Thank you."
"I'm just glad you like it. It's not pink or anything, is it? If I gave you salmonella, I'd never forgive myself."
With an imperious look, Kurt stabbed himself another forkful of chicken and butter and defiantly shoved it into his mouth. "There. Now that you've warned me, if I do get sick, it's my fault!" David's laugh was warm, like a good cognac.
The rest of the meal passed like a boat drifting across a still, calm lake. Soon enough, David and Kurt were in the library sharing a pot of coffee. Kurt couldn't help it; his eyes were taking in the treasures on the shelves, first editions and rarities galore. Yet tucked amongst them, as casual as if they belonged there, were cheap paperback and hardcover editions of Stephen King, Isaac Asimov, Scott Turow, and others. David seemed to see what he was thinking, and nodded. "Dad was always a big reader, but he was never a snob about it. Most of those books are his. He just read what he wanted to."
The mention of "Dad" stirred Kurt's heart, for multiple reasons. His gaze drifted towards the fireplace, towards the portrait over it. Dr. Paul Karofsky, one of Gotham's top medicos. His wife, Diane, of a family with a pedigree older than most states. Their son and only child, David, whose smile had to be recreated from photos when he got bored with the posing. David once again followed his gaze; his face seemed to fall, just a little. Kurt caught it. "You still miss them."
"Of course." He sipped at his coffee.
"It's been years since my dad died, and I still think about him every day. I can't imagine what it's like to lose your parents the way you did..." Kurt's gut twisted with a fairly unfamiliar emotion: regret. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."
David shook his head. "No, it's okay. I guess we all... deal with things like this in our own way." He looked up at the portrait, as he often did when alone in this room. "I owe them so much, I don't know if I'll ever be able to..." He trailed off at Kurt's serious look.
"You said you appreciated honesty. I'm about to be brutally honest. Do you mind?"
David paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Go ahead."
"You don't owe your parents anything. They're dead. They can't repay or appreciate anything you do. I think everyone would be a lot happier if they just lived for themselves, not for other people." Kurt found himself holding his breath, waiting for David's reaction.
When it came, it was low-key, almost a little sad. "You're not saying anything I haven't wondered myself. Sometimes... I'm not sure which would be worse: if dead is dead, or if they were still watching me, what I'm doing with my life." David thought little of what he was saying, what he was telling this man he'd only known for a few weeks. It was as though he were someone else, as though he actually were the David Karofsky he presented the world.
"This is where I find my atheism reassuring, frankly," Kurt said, a shadow of a smile creeping onto his face. "My dad's not suffering in hell for eating shrimp, and I get to live my life without ghosts looking over my shoulder."
"You don't have to believe in souls for that to happen," David muttered, so low Kurt almost didn't catch the words.
They sipped at their coffee in silence for a few moments. Then Kurt, for a reason he'd never fully be able to figure out over the subsequent years, burst out in words: "I don't believe in love at first sight!"
David raised an amused eyebrow. "No?"
Kurt calmed, starting to blush (which caused him even more internal humiliation), but the words were out; he might as well press on. "It's ridiculous, fiction created by greeting card companies and romance novelists. Take us. We've haven't been on even three dates. We hardly know each other. We live the kind of lives that set us apart from other people. It's absurd to think that anyone could fall in love just like that under those kind of circumstances! It's insane!"
"I completely agree," David replied calmly.
"Good! Because it's unrealistic! Idiotic! It's..."
David chuckled. "I think that's enough adjectives."
Kurt got his breathing under control (a vital skill for close-in work), smoothing the front of his suit nervously. "You get my point. It's all just fantasy. There's absolutely no substitute for time - for getting to know someone intimately. None. That's where love comes from, and nowhere else."
"Well, then..." Was it Kurt's imagination, or did David's voice just go hoarse? "I guess I'll have to put aside time in my busy schedule for the next few years."
Kurt almost choked on his coffee. "Um..." he sputtered as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin, trying desperately to keep his cool, debonair attitude. "I..."
"Funny thing is," David continued quietly, "I feel like I know you already. At least a lot better than I should, given, as you said, we've only seen each other three times now. Is that strange?"
No. "Maybe a little. But... I suppose it happens. Just don't ask me to believe in reincarnation or alternate universes or anything like that. I think life is what we have, and it's foolish to try to look for something else."
"Again, I completely agree." At some point in this conversation, the two men found themselves sitting on the same couch. Kurt wasn't even going to pretend that he knew how that had happened. David was fidgeting, his hands clasping and squeezing at each other. It was sort of adorable. "Uh... you know, you were right... Most of my dates sort of never get this far..."
"Honestly? Mine either. But it's usually because I'm so busy... You know, career before all..."
"I... hope you make exceptions..."
"Of course. All work and no play and all that." Kurt turned towards David, only to find that he had done the same; the two were now uncomfortably close. "Like I told you at the gala," he finally said breathlessly, "life's too short to not go for what you want."
David's voice was just as soft, just as whispery. "And you're bringing this up now because...?"
"For fair warning." Kurt's hand raised to David's cheek, and their lips locked in a kiss. Kurt didn't have any idea what to expect, but this feeling wasn't anything he would've expected regardless. It was soft, it was loving, it was gentle yet explosive... It was also weirdly familiar, but Kurt had kissed (and left) so many times that it wasn't something he dwelled on. He just let himself get lost in the contact, in the flesh, in the now.
When they finally separated (only to breathe, it seemed), David looked stunned; apparently he'd been just as overwhelmed. Kurt smiled, and was about to speak when the buzz of his cell phone completely shattered the mood.
It was three quick pulses, a signal reserved exclusively for the best of his professional contacts. David had apparently heard the buzzing; his head was cocked slightly in something approaching curiosity. David... phone... David... phone...
Oh, what am I thinking? David will still be here tomorrow, and the night after that. He promised. Whatever this is might not be. Despite the pristine logic, Kurt's heart still wrenched in his chest as he stood and answered his phone. "This better be good, Sandi. I told you I'd be busy tonight."
"It's good," the rough, masculine voice on the other end promised. "The Bast statues are on the move."
"Ugh, seriously?" Kurt groaned dramatically, feeling that warm rush of pride that usually accompanied one of his stellar performances. "But we just bought that carpeting yesterday!"
"If you want a chance at 'em, this is your best bet. I suggest intercepting 'em on Highway 106, exit 97. But you'd better start prep now, or you'll miss it."
"Fine, fine... I suppose we can't upset the old dear, can we? I'll be right in." He switched off the phone and turned to David with an expression of genuine regret. "I'm so sorry..."
"Client?" asked David, his voice heavy. The sound dropped Kurt's spirits even more, and a voice was starting to nag, ever so softly: are you sure you're making the right decision? Kurt hushed it as best he could.
"A big one. I can't afford to lose her, not if I want to get her friends as clients." As David rose, Kurt grabbed onto the other man's hands, which were surprisingly stiff. "I promise, next time you will have my exclusive attention."
David smiled weakly. "I'm going to hold you to that."
He offered the services of his car and William, his butler, to take him back to the city, an offer that was gratefully accepted. As Kurt made his hurried but sorrowful goodbyes, Kurt couldn't help but think that David was suddenly a little distant; he seemed distracted, and their farewell kiss felt perfunctory. But then, who could blame him, with this sudden departure with such unfortunate timing? Kurt resolved to make it up to him next time.
As his mind started planning the heist, he found his thoughts drifting, slowly but steadily, back towards the mansion he was leaving, back towards David. He shoved those thoughts aside in annoyance, conscious even as he did so that he was making a decision just by the act, a decision he wasn't even sure, deep down, he wanted to make...
As the car vanished, David's heart pounded. It didn't mean anything. He dealt in facts and deduction, not intuition and feelings, not when it came to something this important.
But there was no denying it. Not even his mind could divine a way out of this.
He sprinted to the grandfather clock, then turned its hands to 10:47 pm. With a barely perceptible click, the secret door swung open. If he'd realized he hadn't even closed the door completely behind him as he tore down the stairs, he would've been very worried about himself. As it was, it took him seconds (much too long) to sit in front of the computer and open a comm channel.
Quinn's face appeared immediately, much to his relief. She smiled. "Hey, David. I didn't expect to see you on tonight. So how was your hot date?"
"I need you to do a search."
"Whoa, that good, huh?"
"Just do the search, please."
He didn't know what it was about his face that turned Quinn serious at the moment. If he'd asked, she would've said she saw not a hint of the grim seriousness she was used to, that she saw in his eyes desperation, and not a little fear, which in turn scared her a little. But he didn't ask, so she didn't say. "What do you need?"
"I need you to dig in deep; that's why I'm asking you instead of doing it myself. I want you to look for other crimes with Catwoman's M.O. in New York, Chicago, Cincinnati, and Cleveland in the past fifteen years."
"Got it." Quinn did a double take. "Cincinnati? Cleveland? Do you know something I don't?"
"Let me know what you find out as soon as possible." He cut off the connection before she could question him further, before letting his face fall into one hand as dread shot through him.
This was crazy. He dealt with facts, not feelings. There wasn't a single shred of real evidence.
But he knew. He could never forget how Catwoman's lips felt, the electricity, the passion. It was a complex mish-mash of emotions and energy that couldn't possibly be duplicated with anyone else.
Yet they were the same things he felt when he kissed Kurt Hummel.
AN: Yes, the cameo in this chapter is a bit pointless. But the next chapter will be a short interlude showing you why I'm not using certain major Glee characters elsewhere in this 'fic, and where they are. I felt they were just too appropriate/good NOT to show, at least a little...